


The Virginia Reel

by darkrosaleen



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Age Difference, Bars and Pubs, Dancing, Dreams, Ireland, M/M, Music, your friend's hot dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/pseuds/darkrosaleen
Summary: Gansey has a strange dream about a pub, a dance, and his best friend's handsome father.





	The Virginia Reel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



Whenever he slept at the Barns, Gansey had strange dreams. He chalked it up to Niall Lynch's colorful stories about his youth in Ireland—half of which Gansey recognized from folklore, and the other half from John Hughes movies.

Tonight, Gansey was dreaming about a small rural pub. The interior was rough-hewn wood, with dark walls and low ceilings that made the room feel as cramped as a cave. The air was heavy with sweat and smoke, both acrid tobacco and warm, inviting wood smoke from the fire in the stone fireplace. 

The room was filled with drunken laughter and bright, frantic dance music. Gansey felt the tune galloping through his heart, and he could taste cigarette smoke on his tongue, even though he'd never been in a pub that allowed smoking. Everyone in the pub was attractive, but not in the pretty, polished way of Aglionby boys sweating through their tennis whites. This was a wild kind of attractive, like a big cat that could swipe you to ribbons with a single paw. 

The tune petered out, and the sudden absence of it made Gansey feel as though his ears were ringing in the silence. He was soaking in the conversations around him when a large, warm hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Fancy a drink, son?" the man said, in a thick Belfast accent.

Gansey recognized Niall Lynch's scent before he recognized the man's voice, or maybe it was just dream-recognition, a certainty that his waking self wouldn't feel. "I'd love one," Gansey said, letting himself be dragged over to the bar. Before Gansey saw a bartender, Niall was pressing a glass of golden whiskey into Gansey's hand. 

He raised it to his lips. It tasted warm and sharp, with just a hint of intoxicating sweetness. Gansey had a sudden jolt of fear, remembering stories about people trapped in the world of the fairies after drinking enchanting fairy wine. 

Niall saw Gansey's hesitation and laughed. "Don't you worry, I won't be snitching to your parents now. Whiskey's good for growing boys like you." He clapped a big, heavy hand on Gansey's shoulder.

"I'm the same age as your son," Gansey said. He felt less outraged than he did guilty over not being outraged.

Niall grinned dangerously. "Aye, and my son can out-drink your Washington father any day of the week." His face glowed with pride, a look Gansey knew well from his waking life. Niall Lynch showed his sons more pride for underage drinking than Gansey's family did for all his academic accomplishments.

Gansey blinked hard and took a swig of whiskey, not wanting to look like a weepy child in front of Niall. The whiskey went down smoother the second time, and he eagerly drank down a third and fourth sip, already feeling the heat of the alcohol pooling in his belly.

The band whipped into another rollicking tune, one that Gansey was sure he'd heard before but couldn't place. A couple of people near the band started dancing, and the building erupted into whoops and hollers, feet pounding hard enough to make the walls shake.

No sooner was Gansey craning for a better look than he felt Niall tug on his arm. "Finish your drink, boy," he murmured, close enough for Gansey to smell the alcohol on his breath. 

"I don't know the steps," Gansey said.

Niall laughed, placing a firm hand on the back of Gansey's neck and squeezing. The pit of Gansey's stomach dropped. "I'll teach you, lad. Come on."

Gansey paused and chugged the rest of his whiskey. When he lowered his head, dizzy and breathing hard, he saw that Niall was again giving him that look of pride. It made something decidedly un-son-like squirm through Gansey.

He let Niall pull him up to a group of dancers who needed one more couple. There were a fair number of women dancing together, which made Gansey feel a little less self-conscious about dancing with another man.

"You be the lady," Niall whispered in Gansey's ear, before grabbing him around the waist and hurling him through the circle.

It was unlike any of the dances Gansey knew from weddings and school functions. The dance was as fast as the music, and Gansey was pulled forwards and backwards and around in circles with such ferocity that it made the pit of his stomach drop, like when Ronan drove around a corner too fast.

Niall kept his hands on Gansey, firm on his waist or his shoulder, unless he was passing Gansey off to another man in the circle. All of the men smelled like sweat and alcohol, and their faces lit up with hungry smiles whenever Gansey spun into their arms. Despite going to an all boys' school, Gansey had never felt so much testosterone in one place.

The spinning part came again, and Niall pulled Gansey flush against him, one broad forearm braced on Gansey's lower back. "Let's have some fun," Niall whispered, before whipping Gansey into an even faster spin, so fast his feet almost left the ground. Only the solid press of Niall's arm kept him from flying apart. Gansey couldn't stop the whoop that left his throat, his brain and his stomach spinning in a whirling dervish that should have left him spewing whiskey all over the dance floor. But because it was a dream, all he felt was fizzy, giddy elation.

The end of the song left Gansey feeling strangely hollow. He stumbled away from the other dancers, grateful for Niall's strong hand leading him out the front door and into the night. The pub was the only source of light Gansey could see except for the stars, nothing but a narrow gravel road with a field of tall grass on the other side.

Niall still hadn't taken his hand off Gansey's neck. His smell was even stronger out in the clear night. "You did well in there, lad. You like dancing with men?"

Gansey squirmed uncomfortably, but he couldn't move out of Niall's grip. Part of him didn't really want to. He had a feeling Niall would know if he lied, anyway. "Sometimes. Depends on the man, I suppose."

The hand squeezed, making Gansey's knees shake. "And you like Lynch men, do you?" 

A bolt of anxiety shot through Gansey. "Please don't tell Ronan. He's my best friend, I don't want him to be mad at me."

Niall chuckled. "Easy, lad, easy. I'll keep your secret." He pressed against Gansey's back, close enough for Gansey to feel his hard muscles and cooling sweat and stiff cock. Frozen in place, Gansey let Niall rub his rough beard against Gansey's neck, a soft kiss just behind it. "Mind you, some secrets don't want to be kept."

Abruptly, Niall shoved Gansey forward. When Gansey turned around, he was alone. The pub had gone eerily silent, and the only sounds he heard were the crickets and the wind moving through the grass.

Something compelled Gansey to walk forward. He crossed the road and came to the edge of the grass. Some unknown source of dream-knowledge told him that this was not a field, but a bog. Fear prickled across Gansey's skin.

"Into the underworld, I suppose." He took a step forward and plummeted down into pitch-black nothing, his stomach rocketing up into his heart. He woke up panting on Ronan's bedroom floor, the burn of whiskey still in his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to I for looking this over!


End file.
